


All the Words

by Pepper_Sanders



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Smut, M/M, monty is alive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:48:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24611773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pepper_Sanders/pseuds/Pepper_Sanders
Summary: Monty died three times on the table, but he survived the shiv attack in jail. Now more than a year later, he’s served his time and is back with Winston.************One shot of one scene between Winston and Monty written by request for ash554.**************Please see rating.
Relationships: Montgomery de la Cruz/Winston Williams, Wonty
Comments: 27
Kudos: 271





	All the Words

**Author's Note:**

> Ash554 this one is for you. I hope you enjoy.

“Baby.” 

The word makes Winston’s heart go weird and crazy. It makes him hard and needy. 

“Baby.”

Here they are. Lazing in bed on a Saturday morning. It’s not something he thinks many people would understand. Almost a year of them writing. Months of visits, but no touching. But there had been progress. Monty told his dad about his sexuality. His dad, as expected, hadn’t taken it well. His dad who was now dead of a deadly mix of too much alcohol and too many pain pills. Monty’s lawyers had convinced him to accept a plea deal on the rape case, a lesser charge with way less time than he could get if he rolled the dice with a jury trial. He had been incarcerated 18 months, with some time already served, but while Winston worked to clear his name regarding Bryce’s death, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to speak to Monty for a long time. He hadn’t been able to reconcile what he knew of the real Monty with all the horrible things he had been accused of.

He isn’t stupid. He remembers how Monty had attacked him, but he knows and understands the rage and its source. All that fear, all that wishing to be something else, wishing to have a different life, different circumstances, but not knowing how to love who you were or change those circumstances. Not even believing you were worth all that.

It was similar to what raged inside of him, except he had never been a fighter. He had found other, more self-destructive ways to deal with his own shit, even as he maintained the outward control expected of his fourth generation Princeton pedigree. 

Monty runs a finger across Winston's brow and kisses him as if he knows what roads his mind travels. “I’m sorry for ever hurting you. You know that will never happen, again, right?”

Monty is staying with him in their guest house. It took three weeks of arguments and threats, but his parents had finally relented, especially when he threatened to not enroll at Princeton after his gap year if they didn’t allow it. That gap year was going into its second year, but he'd figure it out soon. He didn’t know if he still wanted to go to Princeton, but Monty said they would figure it out if he decided to go. He didn’t know what that meant. He refrained from asking Monty about the future, about what they were; he was just happy to have him back and alive. 

“I know it won’t.” And he means it. He had always seen Monty. Completely. Understood him even when his friends thought he was crazy for returning to someone who had hurt him so badly. And maybe he wouldn’t have returned, but Monty had approached him months after the party and apologized. He remembered that night, after the infamous Hillcrest-Liberty game, before everything had gone to hell. Before Monty’s best friend had been killed, and Monty had almost been chewed up by the system. Monty had been sincere and vulnerable with him that night, and Winston had seen him for who he was and who he could become if given half a chance. 

Winston traces a finger across the scar on Monty’s side. It’s a ragged red line that trails from the bottom of his rib cage to the top of his thigh. He still has pain there, but he’s been working with a physical therapist and training in the Williams family home gym. Winston leans down and kisses the scar. It scares him sometimes to think of how close Monty came to dying in jail, how he almost bled out on the floor from a shiv attack. Alone and afraid. 

Monty’s skin is warm against his lips, and he sees Monty twitch in response. He loves how easily Monty is affected by him. How he can be so tough when they are out, but soft and gentle when they’re alone together. Well, sometimes gentle. Winston also likes it when Monty takes charge. When he breaks him apart into a thousand little pieces, and it takes all evening to pull himself together again. Winston moves from the scar and takes Monty in his mouth. He loves that he can do this for him. Can take him as deep as he likes, although it is a bit of a challenge. He wraps his mouth around him and takes him in until he feels him throb at the back of his throat. He holds him there for a minute, feeling Monty lose a little of his control. He pulls back along the length, making sure everything is wet and tight. He wants him to feel as good as he makes him feel. Monty arches his back and groans, and Winston can feel himself grow harder. 

“Ok, turn over. I need to feel you. I need to be inside you. Baby.” 

And there it is, again. A year of writing when Monty was in prison, and there were never any words of endearment, no _I love yous_ , no _I miss yous_. They wrote about what was happening at Liberty, they wrote about the football squad, Monty wrote about Bryce. Pages and pages about Bryce. Monty shared with him his joy when he graduated from high school behind bars, and his pain trying to recover from the shiv attack. 

Monty wrote about the progress he was making in therapy, and he was actually making progress. Way more progress than Winston had ever made with years and years of family therapy and self therapy, but he figured he was probably more of a lost cause - inbred blue-blood genes and all, he often joked with Monty. Monty even wrote a letter to Tyler. Winston never read it, and he knew it would never make things right, but Tyler had thanked him for getting it to him. 

Sometimes they wrote about the future, but it was all very general, nothing about a future together. Winston wanted to tell him how much he missed him, how he needed him, how badly he wanted to touch him, to be touched by him. 

Winston knew he was in love months ago. Maybe he’d already been heading that way that summer he’d met Monty almost three years before, but he’d held back on saying the words out loud. He never let the words escape, even when they were on the tip of his tongue. He was too scared it would push Monty away for good. 

And then, Monty started calling him “love” and “baby” after almost three months of hidden hookups and quick meetings wherever they could. The first time he’d said it, he’d been inside him, and it seemed like the words had surprised Monty even as they left his mouth. But it had made Winston come so hard that he had been wracked with the aftershock minutes after. Monty knew what it did to him. And Monty says it now as Winston turns over on his stomach, the soft pillow pressing against his face. 

“Baby.”

He feels Monty lean over to the side drawer where they keep the lube and condoms. Monty preps him, slides his lubricated fingers inside him, opening him up. He slowly takes him apart. Winston taught him how to be gentle but sure and strong. Like Winston likes it. And then he feels him push inside. He moves slowly at first, opening him up more, pausing as he checks with Winston to make sure he can continue, and the feeling is intense, almost at the edge of unbearable, but also so, so good. He is filled up, feels like he is complete, made whole again. Monty begins moving inside him, slowly at first, and then faster. The intensity builds between them, it’s something almost tangible, something sweet, something that scares him a little because he knows it would break him if it was ever taken from him. 

Monty grabs him around his waist, and Winston pushes back. A moan escapes him as Monty hits the spot inside him that makes him start to unravel. Monty moves his hand to grab Winston’s dick. His hands are slick with something wet, and Winston throbs against his certain grip. He begins to move his hand, taking Winston to the edge of his control just as he feels Monty reaching his own edge. Winston still wants more, wants so much more. And then he is there and he’s spilling over, coming completely undone. He pushes back again, even as he is almost too sensitive to continue and hears and feels Monty moan. It sounds as if it’s being pulled from somewhere deep within him, and it takes them both completely over the edge.

They both lay spent on the damp sheets, limbs tangled together, fingers lightly interlaced. In that moment he feels like he would never need anything else, not food, not water. Just Monty. Only Monty. Monty breaking him apart into a million pieces. 

“Hold on.” Monty leaves for the bathroom and returns with wet, heated towels. He cleans and wipes away the spoils of their lovemaking. Wipe. Kiss. Wipe. Kiss. He pulls him close and pushes his dark hair away from his face. “You’re beautiful, you know that.”

Winston huffs out a laugh. He never knows what to say when Monty compliments him. Well he knows, but he won’t say it. Can’t say it. Often he says something sarcastic or self-deprecating. Monty kisses him, softly at first and then harder, rougher, until his lips pulse and feel bruised. Winston tastes his tongue and wants more. He can’t believe he’s getting hard so quickly, again.

“Damn.” Monty whispers as he looks down. But he stops, which is weird. They would be going at it again, usually.

Winston props himself up on his elbow. “What’s wrong?”

Monty is better now about expressing his feelings. Winston hates to admit it, and knows it isn’t true for most people, but he thinks prison had maybe been the best thing for Monty. After Monty was attacked, he had been moved to another facility. One that fortunately offered better mental health programs for its inmates. And with medication and counseling, Monty had been able to open up in ways he could not before. After his dad died, Monty had been distraught. Winston couldn’t understand how someone who had treated him so badly for so many years, someone who had probably been the catalyst to the shit-storm that would become his life, could deserve such anguish. But Monty had also been concerned about his sister, Estela. Once she was safe with relatives and thriving, he had been able to refocus on getting better.

“I know you want us to be out together in public,” Monty finally says. “I know you want to go out on dates and not just to the movies where we sit three feet apart.”

Winston laughs. “None of that matters. I just like being with you. However I can get you. Plus, I don’t know if we’re as inconspicuous as you think. It’s not like you’re very good at keeping your hands off me when we do go out.”

Monty chuckles. “Well, it was good you picked that horrible movie last time that no one on earth wants to see. We had the whole theater to ourselves.”

“I wonder if any of the attendants saw us.”

“Well, they got a show, huh?” Monty teases.

Winston lazily touches his hair. It was much shorter when he returned home, but now it has grown out, starting to curl on the ends. Monty had also gained a little weight in prison, and Winston joked about how much he loved his bigger, plumper butt and love handles, but the workouts and his daily runs through the neighborhood had quickly leaned him out. He was back to his former football season physique. Winston craved his body either way.

“I want you to know that I’m getting there,” Monty continues. “I wasn’t here for prom. I wasn’t here for a lot of things.” He looks away, lost in thought, as if he’s thinking about his dad, about his sister, Estela. “But I’m going to take you out dancing. And I can dance. I'll take you to some fancy fucking rich person’s restaurant with a dance floor. And I’m going to fucking pay for it. You hear?”

Winston smiles. “It’s cool. I don’t need any of that shit. I just need you. Alright? However you’re ready to give it to me.” And it was true, if Monty wanted to see it as just getting one off, or as just staying with a friend, Winston would be fine with that. Monty could get there in his own time if that’s what he chose. 

Monty nods. “I don’t know how you’re still with me. Why you’re helping me so much. After all the shit I’ve done. I’m pretty much a pariah in Evergreen. I think back on all the shit I did, and I don’t even recognize that person anymore. I’m not perfect now...but the shit I did.”

“I saw you. The _you_ beneath all that.”

“Hmm.” Monty pulls him close again. Kisses the top of his head. Winston curls against him. They’ll need to change the sheets soon, but he loves just laying like this. Together, finally. Monty pulls back. He looks him in his eyes. Brown eyes meeting hazel ones. “I miss him. You know. Even after all the jacked up shit we did. I miss him.”

“I know,” Winston whispers.

He knew who he was talking about. Not his father, but his brother. If not by blood, by pain and fire, and all the years of having each other’s back, on the field and off. And the secrets. So many fucking secrets it would eventually swallow them all whole. The repercussions of the past few years were still being felt in the lives of all those affected. Winston had helped Monty when Liberty students tried to pin Bryce’s murder on him. He had been able to find a way to provide a secure alibi without revealing everything. The investigation had been mostly swept under the rug and quickly closed. 

He knew the Liberty kids and their parents all protected one another, but he had resources, too. And he had used what was available to him to clear Monty’s name of murder. He had been an outsider, but it didn’t matter, he had not been able to let it go. And Monty _had_ died, three times on the table before doctors had been able to stabilize him and get him to the ICU, but he had survived. Monty had pulled through all of it and come out better on the other side. He knew both of them had a long way to go as far as healing, but Monty was a little more whole now, a little less broken. 

“And I don’t say this word often, but I think I loved him.” Monty is now laying back on the pillow with his hands behind his head. He stares up at the ceiling. “Not in a romantic way, but you know, other than my sister, I just never felt that way about anyone else. I would have done anything for Bryce. I would do anything for my sister. I would do anything to protect them. I would die for them.”

“Yeah, I know.” He didn’t offer anything more. He knew Monty just wanted to vent, to work out his thoughts in the moment.

“Did I ever tell you I dreamed about him when I was in the ICU?” He looks over at Winston who has moved to prop his head against the headboard.

“No,” he shakes his head.

“He seemed different. He told me he’d been fucked up. That whatever had been wrong with him on this side of things didn’t hold on the other side. He seemed happy...better.”

Winston chuckles. “My jock is getting deep and spiritual on me.”

“Oh, shut up, Rich Boy. When I was younger, my grandparents had us in church all the time.”

“Well, church and spirituality are two different things.”

“Yeah, I get that," Monty says. He pauses, closes his eyes briefly before opening them to stare at the ceiling, again. "It felt more real than a dream. I don’t know. I’d like to think he’s OK. Is that dumb?”

“No, no...it’s not dumb.”

“Anyway, my therapist has me dealing with all kinds of shit. Head on, ya know. The reasons why I acted the way I did, and my own responsibility for owning up to the decisions I made and committing to doing better. It’s helping me a lot. You should think about going, too.”

“Me? No. I’m beyond redeemable.” Winston laughs. “I just need to keep it simple. Go to Princeton. Make my family proud. Suck your dick. I just want a simple, easy life.”

“Dirty mouth.”

“You love it though,” Winston teases.

“I do.” He leans over to kiss him. The kiss is soft this time. He pulls back and goes quiet. A few seconds pass and Winston realizes Monty is staring at him. “I love everything about you, actually.” Everything goes quiet, still. “I love you.” He says it plainly. “I love you.”

  
  
  
  



End file.
